Stress & Exhaustion
by bacta.junkie
Summary: One ordinary November morning, a rather ordinary looking owl flies into an ordinary flat in London, belonging to a rather extraordinary young witch. It releases from its talons onto the cluttered kitchen counter a rather ordinary letter, within which is inscribed the last words of Draco Abraxas Malfoy.


**WHOO! Three thirty in the morning! Why is it that I only ever write things in the middle of the night?! Ah, well. At least I don't have anything important going on in the morning. Just mid-terms and essays and a job. Pffft. Whatever.**

**In other, related news, this is my first fic published from my new home, DePaul University! Great school, great people, great classes, great location. I could not be in a better place right now. Physically, not metaphorically, although I've been pretty happy lately too, so I guess I'm solid.**

**I really wish inspiration struck me more often. I love writing for you guys, but it seems like I only have something to write once every few months. **

**This little fic came out of my first adventure into AO3. It's not quite as big as FFN, but it's different, and I figured it's just a collection of stuff I haven't read yet, and that's unacceptable, so I spent the afternoon looking through that website. After like twelve hours of reading upwards of 200,000 words from fics of over a dozen fandoms, this random plot bunny came spewing forth from my brain. And now you're reading it!**

**Fair warning: this fic jumps between romantic, comical, depressing, and heartwarming with very little warming; don't be surprised if you come down with a nasty case of mood whiplash after you read it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it. The only thing that I own is the plot, and I'm fairly certain even that has been done before.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

One ordinary November morning, a rather ordinary looking owl flies into an ordinary flat in London, belonging to a rather extraordinary young witch. It releases from its talons onto the cluttered kitchen counter a rather ordinary letter, within which is inscribed the last words of Draco Abraxas Malfoy.

Hermione Granger, the extraordinary witch who calls the flat her home, is in the middle of going about her morning's chores when she locates it. She has just finished her tea and is preparing to brush her teeth and depart for work when she spots the owl's tail feathers as it recedes from the window. Her curiosity peaked, she finds the parcel it has released for her, tearing open the stiff parchment and perusing its contents.

Seven words stare back at her from the paper, the ink still drying. She's so familiar with his handwriting that she doesn't even need to see a signature (there isn't one) to know who has sent it.

_I love you, Hermione. I'm so sorry. Goodbye._

Her porcelain teacup falls from her hand, shattering on impact.

* * *

All thoughts of being productive or brushing her teeth are abandoned the moment Hermione reads the words. She rereads them, and then reads them a third time. Her exceptional mind kicks into overdrive, immediately considering all possible options. Each time, she arrives at the worst-case scenario. With not a moment to spare, the witch leaps into action, making a beeline for the fireplace. With a sense of purpose and urgency she hasn't felt since her war days, she throws a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, shouts, "Ministry of Magic!" loudly and clearly, and nearly tumbles into the green flames in her haste.

Upon her arrival, Hermione Granger does something she doesn't often do anymore: she kicks off her shoes, orients herself towards the Department of Magical Law enforcement, and she runs like hell.

* * *

After the war, Hermione and Draco had reacquainted themselves. Having been forced by Ministry decree to go a year without magic or risk imprisonment in the stony fortress of Azkaban, the first thing he did upon his return to the magical world was send a letter of apology to his former nemesis. Muggles, he had discovered, were quite ingenious, having spent many centuries perfecting their crafts without the use of magic. They both agreed to put the past behind them, and after a few false starts and awkward conversations, they found that they both thoroughly enjoyed the other's company. Lunch in the Ministry cafeteria turned into afternoons spent together on weekends, working late to do research turned into movie nights at Hermione's flat. In the span of a few months, the two of them had become "Granger and Malfoy", a duo spoken of proudly by their superiors ("Oh really? Well you wouldn't believe what Granger and Malfoy pulled off last week…") and talked about in gossip circles by their coworkers ("Did you see the way he was staring at her earlier? Those two need to just shag already!"). Despite their close relationship, the pair insisted to everyone who was rude enough to pry that they really were just friends. Good friends. Very good friends.

Until, that is, the day Draco Malfoy sends a rather ordinary letter to Hermione Granger.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt, he of deep voice and awesome name, has seen many things in his life that he wouldn't care to relive. He spent years fighting dark wizards as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He fought Voldemort himself, although not one-on-one.

But nothing scares him quite as much as the sight of a very distressed and, frankly, scared-looking Hermione Granger barreling towards him, barefoot, at top speed.

Hermione Granger does not scare easily. Whatever has her upset was serious.

The witch slows to a stop in front of the former Minister and current once-again head of Magical Law Enforcement, panting as though she'd just sprinted there from the atrium.

"Draco…" She begins breathlessly. "Malfoy…" She continues. Rather than keep speaking, she instead digs the letter out of her pocket and thrusts it into his hands.

Kingsley reads the letter, his eyes wide. "I understand your concern, Miss Granger, but what do you want me to do about this?"

Having taken a second to catch her breath, she speaks. "Find Harry, Ron, and Neville."

* * *

Following Hermione's recent friendship with the antichrist, the three Gryffindor boys-turned-aurors had taken on somewhat of an uneasy truce with the former Slytherin: in the interest of maintaining their friendships with Hermione, they all agreed not to actively insult, aggravate, or otherwise confront each other. They didn't necessarily approve of her new friend, but she was a big girl and could choose her own friends. Besides, he wasn't really all that bad once he stopped being such a brat.

So when Hermione Granger bursts into their shared office (they had insisted- the team that does paperwork together stays together) with the head of their department in tow, hysterically shouting at them that her new best friend might possibly kill himself, they agree to help her locate him, especially since it means not having to actually work that day.

* * *

Having gotten her team out looking for Draco, and realizing that she hasn't taken a moment to stop and think in the eleven minutes since her mind had started racing in her kitchen, she decides sit down and breathe.

The first thing she realizes is that she is late for work. No matter; this is more important. Her boss would understand; besides, if Draco wasn't there, she wouldn't hear the end of it anyway. Not that she could even go sit in her office without him there and not cry.

The second thing she realizes is that he hadn't actually heard from her since he sent her the letter. He had no idea she was looking for him, and for that matter, she hadn't actually tried looking for him yet. In her haste to solve a problem that thinking couldn't fix, she'd immediately reverted to her old standby: locate Harry and Ron.

She takes another moment to scold herself for not thinking properly, and then takes yet another moment to forgive herself, because she is in a great deal of distress and she can't be expected to think straight when Draco is in mortal peril at his own hand.

She tells Kingsley she's going to look for him herself too, and Kingsley lets her know that he'll send a letter to her own department, letting them know she and Draco wouldn't be in that day. She thanks him quickly, but her mind is already out the door, and her body follows shortly thereafter.

* * *

Hermione's first destination is his flat. It's the most likely place she can think to look for him, so if he really doesn't want to be found, he won't be there, but she wants to cover all of the bases.

Draco Malfoy, of course, is not home.

Her second destination is the manor. Narcissa politely tells her that no, Draco hasn't come home today, and when she received a floo call from him a few days ago he'd seemed fine, he hadn't seemed off at all. Hermione tells Draco's mother that she'll let the older witch know of Draco's condition as soon as she finds out, but leaves without explaining exactly why she's looking for him in such a hurry, or why he's missing, or what his condition could be, or why he might seem off, or indeed anything that might provide his mother some sort of clue as to why her son's best friend is currently undergoing some sort of panic.

* * *

Upon leaving the manor, she realizes she's starving, and decides that the quickest source of food would be her own kitchen. The young witch apparates into her flat. It suddenly seems very quiet and still. The shattered teacup lays where she'd left it that earlier that morning. She abruptly decides she is no longer hungry.

Hermione allows herself a moment of exhaustion, collapsing on her couch with a defeated oomph. Placing her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees, she groans in frustration and distress. Wracking her brain again for options, more things she could do, anything that might help find him or keep him alive, she comes across a course of action she hadn't yet considered.

Withdrawing her wand, Hermione fixes in her mind the image of Draco Malfoy, with his head thrown back in laughter. The words _expecto patronum _leap from her mouth, and immediately a silver otter is perched at her feet, looking up at her expectantly.

"Draco Malfoy, you complete arse!"

_Off to a good start then_, she berates herself.

Sighing, she begins again. "I'm sorry, that's probably not what you needed to hear- you're not an arse, not at all- you're the most amazing man I've ever met," she takes another breath as tears begin to fall, "and I just want you to know that I have the best team in the country out looking for you, and there are so many people who need you to be okay, and your mother is worried about you, and I'm worried, and oh god- you are not dying, not without letting me see you one last time, and if you make it through this I am never going another day of my life without hearing your voice, and I need you to know that I love you like crazy, and I will do whatever you need me to, I will hold your hand and make you tea and let you cry on my shoulder and I promise I won't think less of you for it because I know you think crying makes you look weak, and oh god, just, just, hold on, I'm coming for you, I'm going to find you soon, and you can tell me whatever it is that's got you so upset, you know you can tell me anything- just don't do anything stupid, please, Draco, I will be there soon, I love you so much. Okay?"

The otter tilts its head slightly. No more words leave her mouth. No more tears leave her eyes. She gives it its command.

"Go. Find Draco Malfoy. Tell him that, all of it. He needs to know right now."

The silver beast bounds through the wall of her home, a soft swishing sound following it out. The glow on the end of her wand extinguishes, and she collapses on her couch in exhaustion.

* * *

"…Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

At first she thinks it's Draco, but upon jolting awake from her couch, she realized it's just Neville's face, green and emerging from the fireplace. "We found him, we found him, he's in St. Mungo's!"

She doesn't even let him finish the call. She grabs a handful of floo powder and nearly runs the poor guy over trying to push him away from the fireplace as she steps into the hospital.

"Take me to him, now!" she half commands, half begs. Out of two parts fear, one part concern for his friend and one part pity, Neville complies without a word.

Hermione has been in St. Mungo's often enough to know he isn't taking her to the morgue, and for that she's grateful beyond belief, and catches herself letting out an enormous breath she had been holding since Neville's face had told her Draco was at the hospital. However, she also notices they're not going to the ward for emergency surgical procedures, or curse breaking, or really and sort of injury; rather, Neville appears to be taking her to the psychiatric ward, with which he is intimately familiar, as it is where his parents had resided since he was little.

"Where are we-"

"He's fine, he wasn't hurt. He was very shaken up though. We found him in a room he'd rented at a seedy bar in Knockturn alley; he was clutching an ordinary knife, of all things, and was staring at a silver otter. It was just sitting there, looking at him, but get this- when we were first approaching the room, we all agreed that we'd heard your voice coming from it." Neville finishes explaining, a knowing look in his eyes as he leads her into a small room off of a small hallway.

"He's asleep," whispers Harry, who iss sitting adorably at Draco's bedside. Ron is standing in a corner, looking uncomfortable to be in the same room with a sleeping Malfoy. "He kind of passed out after we found him. There's a red mark on his neck-" Hermione's eyes dart to the spot Harry had described, noting the mark in question "- where, if my extensive knowledge of human biology serves me correctly, he had had the knife pressed for quite some time, never drawing blood, as though he were waiting for something to tell him whether or not to go through with it. I guess he got his answer." Harry looks up at Hermione, his hands clasped in his lap, in between his knees. "We'll give you two some privacy."

The three men step out of the room, closing the door behind them. Hermione takes the seat Harry had been in. She retrieves Draco's hand with her own. He seems so much more pale than usual- quite an accomplishment, considering the man's usual skin tone.

After a few minutes of just staring at him, watching his chest rise and fall, confirming that yes, he is still alive, she indulges herself and gently shakes him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and she squeezes his hand, letting him know she's there. He turns his head to her, and she lifts his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. It' almost a joke, because it feels so formal, the way a king's subject would kiss his rings, as though she's subservient to him, but it's so intimate, so much closer than they've reached so far, and as he watches her lower his hand, he draws in a deep breath and lets it out.

She's the first to break the silence.

"You're okay," she breathes. It's meant to be relieved, but the words form tears in her eyes, and she can't help but smile because he's okay, he's right there and he's okay.

"Hermione," he smiles. "Hey."

"Hey," she grins, a small grin, with a tiny bit of a blush that creeps up her cheeks. "What happened, why'd you…?" the sentence doesn't finish. He knows what she's asking.

"I don't know, Hermione," his smile drops. "Something just broke inside me, something snapped, and I felt like I was going to jump off a building or something, I just wanted to die and I still don't understand why, and then I got a letter from my mom, and then Kingsley, and I just- and then your otter found me, and- Oh god, Hermione, tell me you meant it-"

She cuts him off with her lips, forcing him to understand. He holds onto her face with his hands, pulling her closer, allowing this thing they've been unconsciously unaware of to escape. She breaks the kiss first, but he's not complaining, because the soft smile on her face tells him immediately that she's not going to let their first kiss be their last.

"Of course I meant it, you dolt," she giggles.

He smiles and scoots over, and she complies with his unspoken request, climbing into the hospital bed and snuggling close to him, clinging to him like he might disappear if she lets go.

"Are you okay?" he asks her, his voice just barely louder than a whisper.

"Yeah," she replies, and she means it.

"I'm going to take care of you for a while, okay?" she asks, her tone hesitant, as if she's worried he might turn down the offer. "You had me so scared, Draco."

"I'm so sorry-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't even apologize. Something in you broke, and that's not your fault. We're going to get you straightened out and you're going to be okay. We're going to be okay."

He sighs and holds her closer. "I love you, Hermione."

She relaxes her grip a bit, content that he won't disappear. "I love you, Draco."

* * *

When the young aurors return, they find the pair fast asleep, and despite Ron's insistence that they wake them, or perhaps because of it, the three of them elect to let the couple remain.

The two end up taking the rest of the week off anyway.

* * *

**As always, I beg of thee, give me your reviews and your favorites, but mostly your reviews. I love hearing what you think of my stories!**

**-Captain Jack**


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